Disclaimer: Marvel own the X-Men. I own this story, and not very much else. I make no money off this, so please don't sue me.
A/N: AU, a.k.a I can't be bothered with canon.
Jubilation Lee was dying.
That was the only conclusion Henry McCoy could come to. He took off his glasses and sighed. In the next room, the gentle beep of the monitors assured him that for the moment, his young charge was still of the living; the almost inaudible (at least to normal, human, ears), squeak of a chair against the floor indicated that Logan had just shifted his weight from one side to the another, one of the few movements he'd make that night.
It had been, or was supposed to have been, a routine mission. Save a mutant, defeat the bad guys, save the world. Not that any recognition would be given them by the world at large; that wasn't the important part, after all.
Villain of the week was quickly dispatched; but not before his nails had scratched deep wounds in the flesh of both Wolverine and Jubilee. Wolverine's wounds had healed a little more slowly than usual, perhaps a sign of what was to come. Jubilee, however, had just got worse, and worse, and worse.
He would call it a coma, but in a coma there was no pain. And the damn thing was adapting. Somewhere between a toxin and a virus, it was fighting away the painkillers that would at least make her death painless and dignified.
Hank had barely slept since they'd brought her, half-conscious and babbling, into the med-lab. He was pretty sure his feral comrade hadn't slept at all; if he had, it had been upright in the chair he sat in, between his frantic trips overseas. Doctors, scientists, mutants with healing powers – they'd all been brought to the mansion, either of their own free will, or at the tip of six adamantium claws. And they'd all given the same answer.
The answer, that now, reluctantly, he was also beginning to accept. Maybe if he had a few years, he might be able to get a handle on this sickness. But they didn't have years.
Gentle noise of the door hinges was Ororo bringing them both dinner. A grunt from Logan to acknowledge her presence, and thank her for the meal, and without even looking Hank could see the hand she would lay upon his shoulder, an acknowledgement and reminder of love and passion put on hold, for now.
But somewhere in her eyes there would be the doubt, that even her love could pull him back from the brink, should this child fall. A daughter to him, closer than any other here. A sort of desperate stillness had descended over the mansion; even the eternal war that was Remy and Rogue's relationship had mellowed; now they usually could be found curled up together, as close as was possible without endangering the Cajun's life.
A plate landed on the table, breaking him out of his reverie. A smile from Ororo, and she was gone again. Right. Foodstuff consumption first, and then perhaps he'd go back to working on the various and sundry possible cures; his notes lay scattered all over the desk. Futile, useless work, but he couldn't admit that to himself quite yet. He took a bite of his dinner; it was probably quite delicious.
He couldn't taste it, couldn't taste anything but bitter failure, like bile in the back of his throat. Damn, he hated failure. When they lost a member of the team it was always hard; he remembered Colossus – that, too, had been his fault. His fault for developing that 'cure' for the Legacy Virus, or for not finding another solution, or from keeping Piotr from taking that last desperate step…
As if on cue, Katherine Pryde stepped through the wall. She'd eventually returned, after the death of her love, a different woman – yes, a woman now, not a girl; hardened, somehow. No softness in her, anymore. What remnants of her childhood had remained she had discarded – Shadowcat was lean, lithe, a force to be reckoned with in battle, but empty, otherwise.
Even Logan had given up calling her Kitty. Now she walked towards him with that set look on her face; it was an expression most of the X-Men were becoming all too familiar with.
A printout landed on his desk. Hank just looked up at her with concern. She hadn't been sleeping much lately, either, and it was showing. Always petite, she'd lost even more weight, becoming angular to a point that worried him.
"How are you today, Katherine?"
"I'm fine." was the terse reply. "Take a look."
The printouts were a series of news reports from Germany; translated, thank you very much, although Kitty – safe enough to still think of her by that name – had picked up some of that language during her 'away time'. Along with quite a few other languages, which had everyone wondering just what she'd been up to, exactly. The central theme of the stories was the same – claims by gypsies and some townsfolk from the Black Forest region that a demon lived in the mountains, guarding a sorceress of 'great power'. There were also claims from some either very brave, or foolhardy, folk, who'd sought out this demon, in order to gain access to the sorceress and ask her for boons… yadda, yadda, yadda… ah. Usually centering around healing, although there was one amusing anecdote about a woman who was supposedly infertile… until she visited the sorceress and nine months later delivered quintuplets.
"Katherine, do you really think we are desperate enough to resort to superstition and hearsay?"
Her eyes narrowed. All right, so that had come out wrong. No sudden movements, no sudden movements…
"We're almost that desperate, Beast, but not quite. Personally, I don't believe in demons, or magic. Which leaves us with…"
Hank sighed inwardly. Of course. Although it was a little painful to have the obvious pointed out to him by a teen ninja with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.
"Mutants." he said. "Hiding out somewhere in Germany. And you intend to hunt them down and bring them back here?"
"I don't know that we have time for that." she replied. The corners of her mouth tugged up into a sort of smirk, the closest she'd got to a smile that Hank had seen for a long time. "I think we should bring Jubes to them."
Kurt Wagner raised his head sharply. There were few things that could drag him away from Jimaine's roasts, and one of them was the unmistakable feeling of a warding line being crossed. Not that crossing the lines would harm those who entered their domain; it was just an early warning system. His magic was not that advanced; whatever his demonic powers (other than teleportation) might be, they didn't seem to include the ability to perform more than the simplest of spells. Perhaps Margali could have helped him develop his gifts further – but his foster mother was long dead. Stefan ruled over the Winding Way – which had left Jimaine to follow the slower, but safer, route of Light magic – hardly the best discipline with which to teach a demon, if that was indeed what he was.
He shrugged, having teleported halfway through his stream of thought (let Jimaine pick the knowledge out of his head if she wanted to know what was going on), and peered through the darkness, his keen night vision helping him. He knew they wouldn't be Romani; the wanderers recognized the warning signs and stayed well away from the boundaries he set; although gifts might be left at the borders, they rarely dared cross into his 'kingdom'. He distinguished at least six figures – no, seven, one of them carried another prone body. Seeking healing? Well it was better than the other sort. There'd been a one lot who'd come through, waving weapons and talking in English, a language he understood poorly and had no real desire to learn. They'd had the audacity to attack, and died quite messily. They called him 'mu-teh', an word he assumed was some English type of demon; although they seemed to have a very limited understanding of what such a being might be capable of. At least the local fanatics brought priests and tried exorcism; not that that kind of thing worked on him, but it had style.
He continued to sneak up on the group, preparing to indulge himself in one of his favorite activities – scaring the hell out of people.
Logan sniffed the air, suspiciously, a feverish Jubilee in his arms. He was sure there was something about, but even he was surprised when a glowing pair of yellow eyes appeared in the darkness. Beside him, Shadowcat stiffened and drew a knife (how many weapons did Pryde have concealed on her person, anyway?); Beast, Storm, Jean and Cyclops stopped in their tracks, an audible gasp coming from at least one of them.
As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, the rest of the creature came into view. Dressed only in a pair of leather pants, it crouched in front of them, it's grin showing off two glinting white fangs. Or perhaps that should be his grin, since the figure was obviously male. This had to be the 'demon' of which the locals spoke; he quickly examined it as he would an enemy. Well muscled, that was obvious even under the fur. Crouched down, with it's (his?) tail lashing behind him, the demon looked like a cat ready to pounce. And he'd managed to sneak up on Logan, which was fairly impressive (and annoying).
Suddenly, the demon leaped into the air, doing a double flip before landing lightly right in front of them, making very little sound on impact. Shadowcat moved forward, drawing a second knife; the demon met her two blades with two of his own, held in either hand.
The real surprise was when the tail appeared at her throat, holding a third blade.
{I think I win this one. Back down, lovely.} he said in German.
Kitty swore (add that to personal knowledge about the 'new' Katherine Pryde. Sarcastic, deadly, chip on shoulder the size of Texas, swears like a sailor.), but slowly, the two separated, although Kitty didn't put away her knives.
Logan decided to intervene before his ex-protégé either got hurt, or killed the one who might be able to help Jubilee.
{We are here to see the… sorceress} he said, hesitating before the last word. His German was getting very rusty. {The young one} indicating Jubilee {is very ill.}
The demon moved forward, touching one hand to Jubilation's forehead. (Three fingers?).
{Poison?}
{Yes, of a sort. Do you speak English?}
A laugh, odd sounding and odder looking, from the demon.
{I do not care to learn that language. But Jimaine can heal the girl. Give her to me.}
He held his arms out, the three fingers on each hand outstretched. Head slightly to one side, tilted, grinning. Waiting to see what they'd do.
When Logan made no move to hand Jubilee over to him, the demon laughed again.
{As I recall, you sought us out. The girl is dying. Jimaine can heal her. If you do not wish to trust her to me, you can turn around and go back where you came from.}
{What is your name, demon?} asked Shadowcat, still holding her knife in a menacing fashion.
An ironic quirk of the eyebrow, and the demon bowed to her. {Kurt Wagner, at your service, fraulein. Or, if you prefer, the locals refer to me as the 'Nightcrawler'}
He seemed to find this last infinitely amusing. Logan sighed inwardly, and carefully transferred Jubilee into the arms of 'Kurt'. His nose didn't lie, and beneath the faint smell of brimstone, this 'demon' smelt very human indeed.
"Danke."
Nightcrawler smiled at them, fangs showing, and then there was a sound that could only be described as a 'bamf'. Logan swiped at the cloud of smoke left behind and swore.
Kitty Pryde said something that we will paraphrase as "Logan, you idiot!", although the actual sentence contained a lot more four letter words.
And behind them, a thoroughly confused and rather annoyed Cyclops added. "All right; now will someone translate?"
A/N: Do we want more, people? Review!